Kreacher and his Pillows
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: Kreacher patted the pillows with his long, slender fingers, watching as a few wheezing feathers were shot out from the sides; the pillow, it must be said, was older than Kreacher himself, and was mostly flat-feathers liked to escape from their flat confines. Kreacher did not appreciate this very much, but he was a house-elf, and no one really cared what a house elf thinks.


_**Written for the Quidditch League Competition: Finals Round One: Non-Human Round. Puddlemere United, Chaser 2, using prompts feather, train, and "Must you?" Writing about Kreacher the house-elf. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by her who is made of stars, using Creature: House-elf?**_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 54, come back here.**_

_**Written for the 'Duct Tape Competition' by lezonne, using **_White Zebra: Write about someone who usually fades into the background

_**All that you recognise is not mine. **_

….

Kreacher patted the pillows with his long, slender fingers, watching as a few wheezing feathers were shot out from the sides; the pillow, it must be said, was older than Kreacher himself, and was mostly flat-feathers liked to escape from their flat confines on a regular basis. Kreacher did not appreciate this very much, but he was a house-elf, and no one really cared what a house elf thinks.

There were actually several things Kreacher didn't appreciate-trains, for one, especially the train that carried Master Regulus away every September, leaving Kreacher at Grimmauld Place with his feathers and the other knickknacks he'd found over the years.

Kreacher really didn't like that train, because Master Regulus seemed much too eager to leave Kreacher for the train, and he never seemed too eager to come back in June.

Kreacher thought June was the best month of all.

"Must you leave, Master Regulus?" he asked every September first, following the tall boy around, packing the things that he was directed towards, all the while cursing the blasted magic school that made Regulus leave.

He hated the school, he hated the train, and he hated the whole lot of it, because Master Regulus always replied the same way.

"I must, Kreacher. I have to go to school, you know that. Besides, it isn't that long of a school year-see here, I'll be back for Christmas, and possibly Easter hols and then I'll be here from June to August. Besides, don't you like it here, cleaning up everything, making the place look nice for Mother?"

"Yes," Kreacher replied, but he sulked anyway, because cleaning the house was not nearly as much fun as following Master Regulus' commands all day long, picking up what Master Regulus told him to, putting things away for him, collecting books, polishing brooms. He liked cleaning house, but he liked serving Master Regulus even more. "Must you always leave on September first, though? Could you not leave later?"

Regulus laughed at Kreacher's question, and the smaller creature was reminded once again that he was merely a servant here, at the mercy of his betters, placed in Grimmauld Place to serve and help and assist until he died-he was not here to ask questions or to request favours from his superiors. He had forgotten his place, for a brief second, but Kreacher remembered himself now.

"I cannot just _postpone _going off to Hogwarts, Kreacher," Regulus said, smirking down at Kreacher as he considered the ridiculous notion put forth by his house elf. "You don't simply _postpone _going to Hogwarts-it's just not done. I'm a wizard, remember? I have to go to school."

He left Kreacher to finish packing the trunk, who scowled and argued with himself for being so idiotic and having forgotten that he was a mere house elf, and not worthy to question his masters.

And, as always, Regulus collected his things and departed, leaving Kreacher behind to polish the silverware and place down two less mats than usual for supper that night, wishing that Christmas would come as soon possible, because he couldn't wait to serve Master Regulus again. Master Regulus had always been his favourite.

Kreacher didn't particularly care for his other young Master, Master Sirius, who was not a good boy, who made Mistress Walburga angry, and who seemed to think Kreacher was here for nothing more than to fluff pillows. Kreacher was glad when the train came for _him_.

Young Master Sirius hated Kreacher nearly as much as Kreacher hated Master Sirius; the way he gallivanted around in his red and yellow, the words he yelled at his mother and father, saying he didn't belong in the house of Black-Kreacher agreed wholeheartedly, and was looking forward to the day that Master Sirius left for good.

Master Sirius was certainly no Master Regulus. Master Sirius hated everyone and always did his best to be cruel to Kreacher-that, or he pretended the aging house-elf didn't even exist to begin with.

Master Regulus, however, was usually kind and thoughtful. Master Regulus was the only one who ever paid attention to Kreacher.

No one ever noticed Kreacher unless they were looking for someone to clean up one of their messes. No one sought Kreacher out just to talk-no one except Master Regulus. But Master Regulus was on a train, and Kreacher was left to collect the feathers from old, worn, and forgotten pillows.

And all Kreacher could ever say was "Yes, sir," like the good servant he was.

….

"Come back here, Kreacher," Master Regulus whispered, cup still clutched in his hand, eyes fluttering as he stared up at the rocky ceiling. Kreacher knelt beside him, shaking with fear, having seen the resolve in his Master's face.

Master Regulus would not be coming back to the Black house ever again. Kreacher would be left to fluff his pillows all day long, alone and ignored, just a shadow in the background.

"Kreacher, don't tell my mother or my father about any of this, do you hear me?" Master Regulus demanded, his free hand curling around Kreacher's cloth, looking up at the tiny elf. "Don't tell anyone about what has happened, what we did here. It's a secret, do you hear me? It's your secret now, you can't tell anyone, ever."

"Yes, sir," Kreacher whispered, still shaking. He got to his feet, trembling all over, avoiding looking at the pale figure of his young Master, who could barely move, the potion working quickly through his system as he gasped and shuddered, seeing things that only he knew about, nightmares.

"Destroy the locket, do you hear me, Kreacher?" Master Regulus murmured to the house-elf, who nodded, tears pooling in his eyes. "Destroy the locket, Kreacher, I need you to destroy the locket before anyone finds out about me. I need you to kill it in any way you can, okay, Kreacher?"

"Yes, sir."

Kreacher told himself not to look back, to just disappear and follow orders, but he heard a human scream, and spun around, watching as pale, fleshy creatures came up from the dark waters, pulling and tugging on Master Regulus, they're faces wide and hungry, teeth nipping at the cloth.

"Go home, Kreacher!" Master Regulus yelled, tossing the goblet aside as he was pulled towards the water. "Go home now, Kreacher, go away from here and destroy the locket!" He was pulled under, still screaming, and Kreacher began to sob hideously, clutching the locket.

"Yes, sir," he whispered, Apparating back to the Black house. Master Regulus had boarded a train that he would never get back off of, and Kreacher was still here, alone, ignored-just a house-elf and his pillows.

"Yes, sir." Kreacher murmured, reaching for a hammer to begin the tedious process of trying destroy his Master's killer. "Yes, sir. Yes, sir. _Yes, sir._"

….

"_Fight! Fight for my master, the defender of the house-elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!_" Kreacher yelled, brandishing a kitchen knife, leading the other elves down a hallway, the lot of them shrieking like little banshees, weapons in hand.

"_Fight, fight, fight! Defend Hogwarts, defend your masters, and fight for Regulus-fight!" _he shrieked, slashing at robes and hands, cutting down masked figures who came at him with wands. He saw only Master Regulus, bending down to say good-bye one last time, knowing he would never return home, never come back for Kreacher.

Master Regulus, who left him every year on a train to a school Kreacher had never seen. Master Regulus, who left him behind in the cold Black house with Mistress Walburga and Master Orion.

Master Regulus, who had never been found, presumed dead. Master Regulus, who had drank the potion and ordered Kreacher to leave him alone, to go away and finish what Master Regulus had died for.

"_Fight in the name of Regulus Black, my master, who died fighting for the house-elves! Fight until his name is cleared. Fight for Master Regulus-fight for Hogwarts!" _

The other house-elves screamed with frustration and rage and the desire to drive back those that had invaded their home. They brandished their weapons, running wildly through the school, slashing and tearing at everyone who attacked them.

"_Yes, sir!" _Kreacher shrieked, watching Death Eaters fall around him, imagining each one had done some grievous error against his Master, each enemy personally responsible for the death of his Master. "_Yes, sir! Yes, sir! Yes, sir!" _

He was not just a house-elf with his feathers spilling from their pillow. He was a fighter, a warrior, a protector of his Master.

"_Yes, sir!"_


End file.
